In 2018, I traveled to Imsouane with two friends, a small harbor town where locals catch fresh fish from the sea and surfers ride the magical waves. Now, six years later, I revisit this place, which has undergone significant transformation.  

With no hot water, shower, or internet, our initial discomfort seemed inevitable. However, as time passed, we found ourselves charmed by the simplicity of it all.

When we first arrived in Imsouane, our accommodation was at Chez Hafid, Imsouane Beach House, a surf-guesthouse on the beach at Cathedrals, the other side of the bay from the town’s iconic point, nestled on the rocky shores of the sea. It felt as we were sleeping in a cave, or at least, that was our initial impression. Upon arrival, we were quite taken aback by the primitive conditions. A small window illuminated the room, ants crawled alond the walls, and the mattress felt like a block of stone. With no hot water, shower, or internet, our initial discomfort seemed inevitable. However, as time passed, we found ourselves charmed by the simplicity of it all. Every night, the comforting howls of stray dogs filled the air, although occasionally disrupting our sleep.

In those days, Imsouane was still relatively unknown, with just a small square holding a few restaurants and surf shops. Around 20 years ago, people started flocking to Imsouane for its dreamy long waves. Initially, it was mostly transient campers passing through. However, as time went on, small hostels and private apartments gradually sprung up to accommodate the growing tourist community. The local surfers exuded warmth and hospitality, making us feel at home from the very first day. And then there was the breathtaking bay, offering endless waves to surf—a sight unlike any we’d ever seen. 

We felt liberated in this place, where everything was possible and permissible; you could ride the waves of the sea and feel the wind, as if you were in a place that could never be taken away from you.

There was something special about this place, where you could escape the hustle and bustle of big cities. Here, life was pure and simple, requiring nothing more, with surfing, reading, and the warmth of community being all one needed. We ate tagine and couscous every day; sometimes, our stomachs struggled to handle the food, but it was all part of the experience. We felt liberated in this place, where everything was possible and permissible; you could ride the waves of the sea and feel the wind, as if you were in a place that could never be taken away from you. Although we may have once thought that this place would remain unchanged forever, this notion turned out to be too good to be true. Slowly but surely, the winds of change swept through Imsouane, bringing with them new developments and modernization. The once untouched landscape began to transform.

In January 2024, the government issued a warning to the local surfers and residents of Imsouane, giving them just 24 hours to pack their personal belongings and evacuate their homes and businesses. The buildings that had been illegally constructed in recent years were to be demolished, with no way to prevent the devastation. Imsouane entered a period of mourning for the stories and memories that had been built up over the years. Social media was flooded with images and videos shared by those who had once visited the place, but it was too late, and nothing could be done to stop it. Even the Imsouane Beach House, Chez Hafid, was demolished.

Returning to this place feels like bidding farewell to what once was. It's a grieving process, mourning a feeling that can no longer be recaptured.

Initially hesitant to return, we ultimately decided to come back to support the locals. Returning to this place feels like bidding farewell to what once was. It's a grieving process, mourning a feeling that can no longer be recaptured. Upon arrival, we made our way to the spot where we once lingered, only to discover the remnants of destruction where familiar places once stood—a place where we used to admire the sunsets over the beach. The locals who have stayed maintain their positivity, as it runs deep in their veins. Yet, there's a divide between those who seek authenticity and warmth, and those who have the means to indulge in surf and yoga retreats and nestle in the new expensive hostels and villas overlooking the waves.

As I walked alone to the hostel on the first evening, a guy on a motorcycle pulled up beside me. He asked where I was heading, to which I replied that I was walking to my hostel. He offered to give me a ride, and without hesitation, I hopped on the back of his bike. We rode through the streets to the hostel where I was staying. Along the way, he mentioned that he owned a restaurant called La Ola, serving fresh fish dishes as well as vegetarian options. ‘Drop by tomorrow!’ he insisted. I nodded in agreement. True to my word, the next day, we dined at his restaurant. While dining here, we felt the generosity and warmth of these people, some of whom had lost their small businesses.

In the eyes of certain local surfers and residents, you can detect a hidden sadness they prefer not to reveal. When I spoke to a local surfer, who had to dismantle his surf shop due to lack of legal papers, he told me he preferred to forget what had happened in the past. There was nothing more to be done, and a fresh start was crucial to move forward. But as he uttered these words, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

While some among us will undoubtedly find ourselves drawn back to Imsouane time and time again, captivated by the allure of the waves and the authentic camaraderie of the locals, there will be those for whom confronting the changes may be too daunting. They will remember surfing the waves and sharing meals with friends, holding onto the essence of Imsouane as it used to be—a sanctuary untouched by time. Even as the landscape changes and the community evolves, the spirit of Imsouane endures in the hearts of those touched by its charm, offering hope and resilience in the face of change.